


Tony Has a Bad Day

by arianapeterson19



Series: Avengers Shorts [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Days, Clint Is a Good Bro, Couch Cuddles, Hurt Tony, Injury, Poor Tony, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arianapeterson19/pseuds/arianapeterson19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The others laughed but Tony now had proof that the world was against him.</p><p>This day could not get any worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tony Has a Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Breyito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breyito/gifts).



It all started with a table landing on his bare foot. It wasn't even a remarkable table; in fact, the table wasn't even his. Steve had been using the heavy duty folded plastic table and had left it leaning against the wall near the door. When Tony had returned home, very much a creature of habit, he had shut the door and turned to hang his keys on the nail next to it – because for all of his technological advancements Tony really liked his keys - when the table slid and fell, the edge catching the edge of his foot with a solid smack, pinning it to the floor.

One of the benefits of being part of an elite team was that they all had something in common. Sure, their extraordinary abilities bound them but it was their first, instinctual reactions that they had in common. No one yelled. Ever. When in pain or surprised, not a single one of them called out. For Tony, it was a show of who he actually was under all his flair and verbose tendencies. So when the table landed on his foot, snapping the bone, he stood completely still for a single breath. Then he blinked down at the table, bent, and lifted it off his foot, shoving aside the pain in his mind, putting it in a box to deal with after he reached the couch. Across the way.

The problem with his plan was that getting to the couch required walking and walking required putting weight on his broken foot. When he put weight on his broken foot, he misjudged his next step and toppled forward, right through a glass table. Luckily, the glass only cut his hands, which he had thrown out to catch himself with, unluckily he stood up and stepped directly on a large shard of glass, which went through his heel, with his injured foot. So by the time Tony made it to the couch, the only other Avenger present in the Tower at the time had appeared, drawn to the noise, and found the billionaire lying face down in the couch, legs in the air over the armrest, one foot swollen and dripping blood around a hunk of glass.

"Someone having a rough morning?" said Clint, his voice soft and teasing.

Tony muttered unintelligibly into the cushion of the couch, causing Clint to shake his head in fondness.

"What was that?" asked Clint, chuckling and he moved easily around the shattered glass. "Clint is your favorite and the others can suck it?"

Tony turned his head to glare pitifully at the archer.

"Alright, alright," said Clint with his easy grin. "Let's take a look at this foot of yours."

Tony hissed when Clint tried lifting the swollen body part, causing the archer to inspect it more closely and find the break.

"You certainly did a number on yourself," said Clint, shaking his head in pity. "When you do something, you don't go halfway."

"I hate you," muttered Tony.

"No you don't, Pikkuinen," said Clint. "Come on, let's get you up and sorted."

"No. Leave me to die."

"Drama queen."

"Asshole."

Clint chuckled and merely dragged Tony up and over his shoulder.

"Oi! Watch it Hawk Ass!"

"Oi! Watching it Iron Priss."

"You put me down you bastard. I mean it! So help me, I will put on my suit, fly you over the ocean, and see if you really can fly."

Clint ignored him in favor of setting him down on the couch in the movie room, being far more gentle than their banter would reveal. With even more care, Clint reached under the couch and pulled out their frequently used first aid kit that Bruce insisted on hiding in every room. He settled on the floor in front of Tony, the billionaires injured foot in hand.

"That piece of glass has to come out, Pikkuinen," said Clint, regret clear in his tone. "And you managed to break your foot. I can clean the cut and wrap the foot, but Bruce is going to have to look at it properly when he gets home."

Tony pouted.

Clint didn't give him time to protest. Taking the end of glass sticking out of the heel, Clint yanked it out.

"Fucking hell!" growled Tony. "Shit."

"Sh, je vous ai compris," said Clint softly, pouring disinfectant on a cloth and cleaning up the wound. "Faire du bein. Presque termine. Presque termine."

Breathing hard through his nose, Tony fought back the urge to yank his foot out of Clint's grasp. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch, focusing on Clint's voice. He always enjoyed it when Clint spoke Finnish. It didn't matter what Clint was saying, Tony just enjoyed how the words rolled off his tongue. Tony had found out on accident that Clint even spoke Finnish; they had been fighting about the coffee make that Tony may or may not have programmed to not brew for Clint when the archer got so mad he started yelling at the inventor in Finnish. Instantly, all the fight left Tony, the words washing over him like gentle waves. Ever since, Clint would resort to Finnish when he wanted his way, or just to get Tony to relax when the genius was in a state.

"All done," said Clint. "You did well, Pikkuinen."

"Today sucks," said Tony. "I want to start it over. I demand it starts over. Make it happen, Clint! Restart the day. You can do that, right?"

"No, I can't you big baby," laughed Clint, throwing out the used gauze and washing his hands.

"Then ask Natasha to do it. She can do anything."

"You ask her," said Clint, hopping onto the couch with Tony, lifting the injured foot onto his lap and placing a bag of ice on it.

"She'd kill me," hissed Tony.

"You need some pain medicine?"

"Scotch?"

"JARVIS, Code Hot-Rod Red," said Clint.

The lights dimmed and the movie "Heavyweights" started playing on the huge screen. A few minutes later, Steve showed up with a huge bowl of popcorn and settled on the floor in front of the couch, making sure the bowl was within the billionaires reach. Seven minutes after Steve arrived, Thor and Natasha walked in, Thor with Poptarts, Natasha with a tray of coffee. She silently handed one mug to Tony. Bruce arrived last, bringing Tony's favorite blanket, the one that somehow always made it from the lab to the couch when the billionaire crashed after a binge inventing lab session. 

Somewhere in Tony's chest, behind the arc reactor, he felt warmth blooming over the pain radiating from his foot. Shortly after the Avengers had moved in, Tony had programmed them each a code. After Steve arrived home from a particularly hard mission, Tony had realized the super soldier needed company that didn't involve forced conversation. Thus was born Steve's Code Spangles- which called for Casablanca, orange juice, and someone with hair who would allow Steve to pet it. Slowly but surely, each Avenger got their own code.

Tony had never realized they had programmed one for him.

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for the person who has inspired me to further my stories.


End file.
